


Bloodlust

by Umbella



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Blood, F/M, Forgive Me, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Non-Graphic Violence, Vampires, generic fucking vampire fic probably, relationship exploration
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-04-27 06:24:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5037292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Umbella/pseuds/Umbella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kyoya's life changes for the worst and he can never go back to the way he used to be, no matter how much he tries. No explanation, no support, and getting help for his developing problem is not an option. Dealing with it quietly has become impossible and although sharing his secret has made it less heavy, there are dire consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

There was a loud pulse beating in Kyoya’s ears and it impeded greatly on the silence of the room, which he was grateful for. He would take anything over being alone with Tamaki’s breathing right now.

“...Kyoya?” A voice broke the steady rhythm of the pulse that Kyoya was only now coming to realize wasn’t his own. And in an instant, it stopped being calming and started giving him the impulse to run away. Instead, he swallowed hard and turned around to look at Tamaki, who was standing there looking mildly uncomfortable in the mostly dark bathroom. Instead of trying to form words, he moved forward and with surprisingly steady hands, guided Tamaki by his shoulders to back up against the wall. Tamaki was cooperative, not questioning or protesting any of his actions. He followed Kyoya’s lead and slid down to the floor, sitting there with his knees slightly bent as Kyoya kneeled between his legs, a little too close for comfort.

“Kyoya, this is a little…”

“Please be quiet.”

Kyoya cringed at his own words, feeling immediate regret, they’d fallen out of him sooner than he could stop them, and it wasn’t a soft suggestion or a gentle request; it sounded like a demand. Immediately, Tamaki shut his mouth and Kyoya could feel him tense up under his hands, which he only just realized were still on his shoulders. He took them away. He wanted to apologize, say he didn’t mean to make him so uncomfortable, but there really was no way around discomfort right now. They knew what they’d agreed to.

Before he could have second thoughts, Kyoya got to work. He worked Tamaki’s tie undone and slipped it off, setting it aside. He unbuttoned the first few buttons of his uniform shirt and moved his collar outwards from his neck, revealing his skin. All the while, he could still hear that (not so steady anymore) pulse in his ears, and he knew it wasn’t his own, even though the longer he prolonged this, the more his hands started to shake. He wished silently for Tamaki to stop looking at him like he was a deer in headlights.

He was about to go ahead, just get it over with, but he stopped, and for the first time since they got to Kyoya’s house, looked Tamaki in the eye.

“Your heart rate has quickened.” He said, bluntly. Tamaki blinked at him, as if put off, but didn’t deny it, or question how Kyoya knew that without feeling for it. “Try to relax. I don’t want this to hurt you more than it has to.”

Suddenly, Tamaki was laughing, a nervous, uneasy sort of quick little broken chuckle. “Th-That’s not exactly helping,” He said through the nervous little smile on his face.

There was a long pause as Kyoya just stared at Tamaki. He didn’t know what to say, what to do to make this easier. It wasn’t easy, and there was no way to make it easy. He was at a loss. He swallowed again, and then, finally, forced words, wringing his hands, involuntarily, low to the floor.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” He said, and only after it came out did he realize that he was contradicting himself. Wrong choice of words. How was he supposed to put this, what he wanted to say? He was struggling. “...Not intentionally.”

“Heh.. I, uh, appreciate it?” Nervous laughter still in his voice, Kyoya could tell he was only making it worse.

“...You don’t have to go through with this.” As he said that, his voice cracked and he looked down, not meaning for his eyes to end up on Tamaki’s throat where they did. He couldn’t stop staring.

He must have zoned out, because it took Tamaki’s hand on his shoulder to make him look up, speaking in a voice obviously indicating that it wasn’t heard the first time. “No. I do. It’s okay.. I know you don’t want me to back out now.”

Kyoya’s face was stiff and unchanging, despite his constantly wavering emotional state. The rate at which he swallowed was becoming constant. It was a tight feeling, holding back like this. He didn’t want to hold back, but even coming this far, he was still unsure if this was really a wise decision. Either way, he had to get it out of his system, and if not now, when? If not him, who? He couldn’t risk that. Not again.

“..You are making me nervous, though.” Tamaki admitted, looking away, obviously uncomfortable—he must have been staring. He needed to stop doing that. Tamaki’s hand fell away from his shoulder.

“Sorry.” He said, his voice low, unintentionally. It was the strain, it was becoming too much. Instead of more awkward attempts at making Tamaki more at ease, he took his glasses off, setting them to the side on the floor with Tamaki’s tie. He could feel Tamaki’s eyes watching him, and to his surprise and relief, the loud, thudding heartbeat in his ears slowed and quieted slightly. He could hear Tamaki taking slow, deep breaths, obviously trying to ready himself. He appreciated the effort. As he considered the easiest way to do this, Kyoya realized it would be difficult to accomplish what he needed to while he was kneeling like this. So, instead, he started to move, started to get even closer to Tamaki.

“Lean back,” He said quietly, and Tamaki complied. He went to straddle Tamaki’s lap, avoiding his eyes as he said, “I apologize for this.”

Within seconds, he was leaning down, his face disappearing from Tamaki’s line of vision as Tamaki leaned his head back to make room for him.

Tamaki was trying very hard not to hold his breath, trying to keep his steady breathing rate steady. This was, despite his reassurance to Kyoya, frightening and strange. But he knew he was helping, he knew he was making Kyoya’s life maybe just a little easier, and that was enough incentive for him to carry through with this. He closed his eyes, waiting for what he knew was coming.

Within seconds, he felt his skin break and unexpected heat spread from that spot on his neck, outwards. He gasped, but his breath caught in his throat shortly afterward, and suddenly he was holding his breath as he’d been trying so hard not to do before. His eyes were now wide open, along with his mouth. When he finally got his breath back, it came out in an unpleasant sound, like someone who fell and had the air abruptly knocked out of them. Immediately, he found his hands grasping at air until they found purchase at Kyoya’s back, in his shirt. His nails dug into his friend’s skin, gripping too tightly. He could feel himself begin to shake, and to try to combat this sudden, unexpectedly intense pain he was feeling, he squeezed his eyes shut and arched his back, “Nn-NN!” His teeth clenched and there were tears squeezing their way from the corners of his eyes.

It was hard to form any coherent thoughts, but the way he was raking his nails across Kyoya’s back said ‘stop.’ Kyoya didn’t seem to notice, maybe he couldn’t notice. Maybe he did, but couldn’t stop. Tamaki had no way of knowing, but in his head he was screaming to break away, although he found himself unable to struggle beyond what he was already doing, paralyzed somehow by this. He had underestimated what he was getting himself into. He hadn’t considered it could ever be this bad. It _burned_. Why did it burn? He had experienced needles, he’d been bitten pretty deeply by cats a few times. It never burned like this. But then, they’d never stuck in him for this long. It was hard to make any sort of comparison.

Over the course of what was probably only a little less than a minute, he could feel himself getting weak, and dizzy. His grip on Kyoya was faltering, and his breathing, despite being laboured, was getting shallower. This had to stop, otherwise he may very well black out. His eyes opened slightly. He forced his voice, painfully, “K-Kyo—”

All that came in response was the feeling of arms wrapping around his form, holding lightly at his back, leaning further down, taking Tamaki down to the floor with him, gently. Tamaki let out a quick breath, eyes closing again, head resting on the floor where before he had to hold it up. He kept letting out quick pants, his ears ringing, everything starting to become muffled and blurred.

It was just before he felt himself losing his senses completely that the pain and the drain suddenly stopped. The razors pulled out of his skin and the hot feeling of Kyoya’s mouth was gone, and he was left heaving and trembling mildly on the floor, arms dropped down beside him as Kyoya kneeled over him, legs on either side of his form. Tamaki didn’t have the presence or the strength to open his eyes to look up.

Kyoya took a deep breath, eyes closed, bringing a hand up and covering his mouth. He seemed.. relieved. Relaxed, almost, leaning forward slightly and putting one hand on the floor beside Tamaki’s head to lean his weight on. He just stayed like that, completely silent in the dark room, for a few drawn out moments before some sort of fog lifted from his mind and he opened his eyes, to look down, to examine Tamaki.

His relief immediately turned to panic. His eyes widened and he took in an quick, unsteady breath. Extending his hand that had before been covering his mouth, he touched the side of Tamaki’s face, turning his head to face him, eyes wide. “Tamaki.” He said, voice wavering a bit. Tamaki was breathing with his mouth open a little, and there was no response. “Tamaki, can you hear me?” He said, sounding frantic, despite his hushed tone.

“Mm..” a soft moan came from Tamaki’s throat as his heavy eyelids struggled to move. But he managed, and looked up to Kyoya, seeing the worry on his face.

“Are you okay?”

Tamaki blinked slowly, still feeling dizzy and dazed, tired. He wanted to sleep. He wasn’t okay. But instead, he gathered just enough strength to use his voice and said, “Yeah, I’m… fine.”

There was a sigh from Kyoya as his eyes closed and he took his hand away from his friend’s face, covering his own eyes and forehead with it. “I’m so sorry,” he said on a sigh, seeming, again, at a loss for words. How did one apologize for something like this?

Tamaki watched Kyoya, very slowly recovering from his groggy state. He’d never seen Kyoya in such a state, and it was strange. He didn’t exactly know how to react. “I’m still alive,” He said.

Kyoya moved his hand away from his eyes, his expression unreadable as he started down at Tamaki. There was a long pause before he responded at all, and even then all he could manage was, “...Yes.” After that, he started to move from Tamaki’s form, climbing off of him, staying kneeled on the floor as he straightened his own clothing. He put his hand on Tamaki’s back and took his hand, being careful and helping him sit up and lean back against the wall. Tamaki was still out of it, and accepted the help without a word, closing his eyes and leaning back, taking deep breaths, trying to regain his senses. Kyoya found himself stuck in one place, staring at Tamaki, at what he’d done. Yes… he was still alive. Eventually, he pulled himself away, standing up to turn on the lights, leaving Tamaki only for a moment as light filled the room again. He turned around to use the sink to get Tamaki a glass of water, but as he did, he stopped, faltering in his steps.

Tamaki was pale—paler than usual—to the point that he almost looked sickly. The wound left on his neck was smaller than he expected it to be. He looked bothered by the sudden intrusion of the bright lights of the bathroom, brows knit and shielding his still closed eyes, grunting a little. Kyoya opened and closed his mouth, not really knowing how to react. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen this before. He just hadn’t seen it on Tamaki, before. He hadn’t seen it on someone who.. was still moving. Eventually, he found the sense to continue with what he was doing before Tamaki started to gain enough presence to question why he was just standing there. He ripped his eyes away from Tamaki and went to the sink, taking a glass from the countertop and filling it in the sink, the noise cutting through the quiet, along with his footsteps as he kneeled back down to Tamaki’s level.

“Here.”

Tamaki’s eyes opened, squinting, eyes first falling on the glass. He reached out to take it, using both hands to hold it, “Thanks.”

He had taken a long drink before even looking up at Kyoya, who was watching him. He did a doubletake, his eyes widening a little as he blinked a few times, to make sure he was seeing it right. Kyoya had… red, smeared on the corner of his mouth. He knew that he shouldn’t be shocked—he knew what had just happened. But the vision alone gave him pause, and just that made his mind rush with what they had just done.

Kyoya must have caught the way Tamaki was looking at him, because he glanced away, standing up without saying anything else. He leaned down, picking up his glasses and setting them on his face, running a hand through his hair. He briefly caught his reflection in the corner of his eye, the mirror above the sink. His avoidance of mirrors was obvious by this point, but the vision made him stare straight at himself and he quickly brought his hand up to cover his mouth, the other hand leaning himself over on the counter. Tamaki was watching, but he stopped in favor of drinking more water—there really was absolutely no way to make this situation less jarring, but damned they’d be if they didn’t both try.

Kyoya turned the sink on, removing his glasses again and cleaning his entire face with a washcloth as the silence settled over the two of them again. When he was done he sniffed harshly and dried himself with a hanging towel, glancing at himself as briefly as possible to make sure it was all gone before he moved away from the sink again. He did it before he could hesitate,

“Can you stand?” He asked, extending his hand to Tamaki, who was finishing his water and setting the glass aside. Tamaki looked up, noticing his friends now-clean, lacking of glasses face. He nodded, taking Kyoya’s hand and using his other to push himself up off the floor, teetering a bit, thankful for Kyoya’s hands steadying him. They barely looked at each other the whole time, but Tamaki managed to make his way to the counter, leaning his hands on it for stability as he struggled to regain his balance, a mild sick feeling in his stomach that he was fighting down. He took deep breaths and looked up the mirror in front of him. Again, he was shocked where he knew he shouldn’t be. He had gone into this knowing what was going to happen, all of it, because Kyoya had been absolutely sure to include every detail beforehand. It was just that, when and after it all became reality, it was more intense than he had anticipated. He looked awful. He looked like he could drop dead where he stood, and by the look of things, he was surprised he didn’t feel _worse_. He touched his own face, rubbing his hand across his skin and down to the small wound left on his neck, bite marks. It.. didn’t look as bad as he expected it to, but it was still harsh. He couldn’t feel it, he realized. It was as if nothing had happened—as if that spot hadn’t just been burning and bleeding and causing him to feel like he was seizing.

He was only snapped out of his intense examination of his own reflection by the sight and feeling of Kyoya tossing his tie over his shoulder, and the words, “Straighten yourself out.”

He blinked, glancing at Kyoya in the mirror. Kyoya was headed for the door, stepping outside and leaving it open, leaving Tamaki alone. He watched the door for a moment after he left, as if to see if he was coming back, but apparently not. He looked back to his reflection, pausing a moment before setting his tie on the counter and going to button his shirt back up.

He started to get frustrated, realizing that, despite the fact that he was feeling a little better physically, his hands were still weak and unsteady. He must have spent a long time struggling with his clothing, because eventually Kyoya was walking back into the room looking concerned, probably wondering what was taking so long.

When he saw Tamaki struggling, he let out a soft breath, not hesitating, walking over to him. “Stop,” He said gently. Tamaki sighed and stopped struggling, letting his hands fall to his sides, facing Kyoya. Kyoya got to work buttoning his shirt and turning his collar up, grabbing his tie off the counter and putting it around his neck, straightening it all out. He fixed his collar in a way that just covered the marks on his neck, straightening it and making sure there was no room for it to slip away. He looked up and Tamaki was watching him, his expression.. appreciative? But somehow neutral. Kyoya cleared his throat and moved his hands away, turning around as if to leave the bathroom, but pausing in the doorway. He could feel Tamaki’s eyes on his back.

“...I, uh..” He started, surprised at his own tone. Rarely was he ever hesitant or unsure, but he found it to be a developing characteristic around Tamaki as of today. It made sense, considering what he’d just done. “I’m sorry. Thank you. Really. Thank you.”

Tamaki’s eyes fell half-lidded. This whole thing was terrifying. He knew what would have happened if he hadn’t helped Kyoya today, and the fact that he prevented that eased his mind while also giving him a lot of anxiety over the entire reality of it. What now? What was he supposed to do after something like this? He couldn’t think of anything else to say or to do, so instead, he settled for a brief, soft,

“You’re welcome.”


	2. Chapter 2

It was six AM and Kyoya was paralyzed before his eyes even opened.

He’d never had a habit of waking from nightmares in distress; he knew they weren’t real. The fading memories would replay in his mind before they started to overlap with reality and disappear completely, and that would be the end of it. But recently they were becoming darker and more often and they were affecting him. It took him a moment to come back, and when he did, he untensed halfway, and forced himself up. In the dark he sat upright in bed, his eyes focused on nothing, on a spot in the the sheets covering his lap.

From the lower level of his room, white light streamed through the crack in the curtains of the wall sized window. It took him out of his half-asleep trance and his head finally turned to look at his clock. It was a few minutes after six, from what his unfocused gaze could read without his glasses. He reached to his bedside and picked them up, pushing his hair back lazily before putting them on. He reached his hands under them and rubbed his eyes, forcing his body to relax a bit, still uncomfortable from the images that visited him in his sleep, trying to stop them in their constant replay. They weren’t fading this time.

There was a nagging in the back of his mind, a childish ‘ _ please let me not go to school today _ .’ He tried to ignore it but back there was a desperate wish for a slip up, a mistake, an hour of oversleeping so he could arrive late to school or maybe even stay home. But the strict rules he had internalized forbid it, and he was sure he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep now even if he tried. So he brushed the thoughts off with the quietest of sighs, and dragged his still tense body out of bed.

Downstairs, he pulled one side of the curtains open as he passed, letting the light in, squinting but keeping his pace towards his connected bathroom. Leaving the door open, he walked inside and immediately went towards the sink—the moderately sized room was windowless, and the only light came from the open door, so it was dim without switching the lights on. He left the lights off.

Instead of looking up at the mirror, he set his glasses aside and cupped his hands under the faucet after turning it on, rubbing his face over with cold water in attempt to clear the fog. He felt out of it, felt somehow disconnected from reality in the mornings. Couldn’t quite seem to come back from his hateful dreams.  _ Because they aren’t going to be dreams for long, _ something in the back of his mind said. The water just barely helped to silence it.

He couldn’t shower in the dark. He dried his hands lazily and halfway, flipping the switch to illuminate the room, and made his way back in. The brief reflection he caught out of the corner of his eye was ignored and avoided. Incessant reminders of his ever paling skin would only make him feel even more uneasy, and he was trying to take his mind off of this.

He was taking his t-shirt off as he turned the water in the shower on, taking the rest off and feeling for the temperature. It wasn’t quite completely warm yet, but he stepped in anyway in hopes that the colder temperature would snap him out of this haze. All it did was make him uncomfortable.

Autopilot was a nuisance. He could no longer be distracted by these simple tasks, so his mind started to wander elsewhere, no matter how hard he tried to pretend that washing his hair was an interesting and complicated thing to focus on. The barrier he put up in his brain was starting to crack, like it always did. 

As he stepped out of the shower and started to dry off, yesterday came back to him and his stoic, absent manner faltered.

He stopped in the middle of drying his hair and looked up, catching his own gaze in the mirror. The towel hung around his head under his hands, and his eyes were dark. His skin was just pale enough to make someone think he might be mildly ill. He looked tired in a way that suggested more than just lack of sleep. The showerhead dripped and echoed slightly off the bathroom walls, as so did the water off his form and to the floor. He could hear his own breathing and his own heartbeat; they seemed to echo as well. For a long, cold moment, both the room and his mind were completely silent.

The moment ended.

He took the towel tightly in one hand, ripping it from over his head and tossing it violently at the wall. It fell to the floor unceremoniously as he walked, fast, out of the bathroom. He was ripping his drawers open and pulling out his uniform, his hands were shaking. Each piece of clothing dropped to the floor once he got it out. In his unnecessary urgency, he hit his knuckles on the edge of the drawer and swore, dropping his shirt and gripping that hand in the other tightly. Both his arms shook as he gripped his hand and held it close to his mouth, taking a few unsteady steps backwards away from his dresser.

He stood in the middle of his room now, naked, wet, and freezing his ass off as his knuckles stung with new scrapes. His pulse pounded too loudly in his ears as he failed to calm his breathing, he felt a headache coming on.

He stopped trying. Slowly, he lowered his body to the floor, crossing his legs into himself and sitting there with his arms folded into himself, hands near to his mouth and head bowing low, drawing inwards, becoming smaller. Everything was becoming muffled. His ears were ringing. His face started to feel hot, his neck, his ears. His vision started to blur so he closed his eyes, and then his face was damper than before.  _ Not again. _

He remembered the taste of Tamaki, the feeling of relief and the emptiness of his head space as it happened, the few short seconds of satisfaction he felt looking down at Tamaki’s fragile state and pained expression. He craved all of it all over again. At the same time, a feeling of disgust washed over him, and he wanted to throw up. The two opposite compulsions clashed and made him dizzy. He felt stupid and pathetic and vile and ashamed of everything. Of his current state, of everything he’d done in the past few months, of what he let himself do yesterday, which he had only just now begun to recall in detail, unable to stop it. Regret hit him like a freighttrain.

He hated what he had become.

Eventually, and after he noticed his legs going numb, his eyes slowly opened. His throat was tight and his eyes burned slightly, both them and his pale face now red. He breathed deep, and swallowed his heart.

By the time he came out of it, he was mostly dry and he felt.. awful, to put it plainly. For one, now his ass hurt from sitting on the hard floor like that. His knuckles were red and skinned a bit from hitting his hand so harshly on his dresser. He was fucking freezing. And now his face was a wreck. His head pounded a little.

Fuck this. Fuck it.  _ Fuck. _

He stood up, doing his best to keep his balance on weak, half asleep legs, rubbing his eyes, sniffing harshly, grabbing his clothes up off the floor and going back into the bathroom and slamming the door behind him. When he came out, he was fully dressed, his hair was fixed, his eyes only a tiny bit red, only noticeable if you were looking for it and fading either way. His complexion was less concerning—foundation? Probably.

It was seven AM and Kyoya was paralyzed before he even walked out the door.


	3. Chapter 3

“Of course, Princess. Ahh~” Tamaki opened his mouth and received the cookie the girl was feeding him, closing his eyes and opening them again to smile at her when he was finished. She practically melted.

He laughed sweetly as the girl to his other side tugged on his sleeve, wanting to do the same. He genuinely enjoyed their company, and _especially_ enjoyed the fawning. He was the king, after all—he deserved this and more.

As club activities drew on, Tamaki was content with going about his own normal routine. He catered to the girls, he watched over the room to make sure everything was going smoothly—as smooth as things _could_ go in this place. Nothing out of the ordinary antics.

That is, until Kyoya, coming in later than usual, planted himself at his usual lonely table across the room with his laptop and stayed there. Not even that was out of the ordinary, but Tamaki was immediately distracted, his smile turning into a half-smile and then fading completely as he watched him, studying his face. He forgot about the people around him. He disconnected from the world for a moment just staring over there, and not once did Kyoya’s head turn, he didn’t notice at all. Or if he did, he was ignoring him.  

He was only pulled back to reality when one of the girl’s shrill voices called him back, and he looked down to her, blinking back a daze. He resurrected his winning smile expertly for her and put on his best prince voice as he assured her he was alright. She smiled back and didn’t suspect a thing.

They hadn’t acknowledged each other since then—it had been a little over a week now, and Kyoya didn’t pick up the phone, didn’t give Tamaki even a chance to approach him. But then, Tamaki wasn’t exactly making a huge effort. After three days, he’d sort of given up, even though his instincts told him to persist. He wasn’t sure what to do.

Their blatant avoidance of each other was obvious and impossible not to notice. Tamaki was usually on him right when he arrived in the morning, walking with him, talking with him, laughing. These recent mornings Kyoya had been taking a different way into the school so that they didn’t encounter each other on the way to class. When Tamaki looked his way in their homeroom, Kyoya hyper focused on his work and didn’t look up even a little bit.

Tamaki wasn’t sure what he had expected. Before this, Kyoya had already been acting a bit off. He had already been less expressive than usual. Less responsive, less everything, like his personality had just deflated a little somehow. Tamaki had been worried, but not sure how to bring it up. He’d never seen Kyoya act that way before. Now, he knew why. That didn’t make it any easier. It did the opposite.

He wanted to think that he would have preferred to stay and make sure Kyoya was alright after what happened that day, but.. that would be a lie. He had left immediately and very awkwardly as soon as he got himself cleaned up.

It wasn’t as if he wasn’t worried for Kyoya, but, after something like that, he was more than a little uncomfortable being in Kyoya’s presence. It was such an odd feeling, being _uncomfortable_ around Kyoya. Never in his life had that really happened, never seriously, until now. He didn’t even know what to say to him. He didn’t know what to do with the secret knowledge he suddenly possessed. Things like this didn’t happen. They just didn’t happen. He was somewhere between frozen in uncertainty and fear, and panicking, risking blurting it all out and sounding insane—and losing Kyoya’s trust forever.

But as distracted as he was, he somehow managed to keep up face, not faltering too much outwardly. He had to. There was nothing he could do, no action to be taken when there were so many people around. Would Kyoya run away from him if he tried to talk to him after school, would he answer if he tried to call him again?

It wasn’t long before the day was over, club activities ending, people leaving. Tamaki was near the twins and Haruhi as he picked up his bag, trying and failing to avoid looking over at Kyoya.

Kyoya, despite the fact that evening was setting in and everyone else was leaving, was still sitting there typing. What could he even be doing for three hours straight? It wasn’t strange for Kyoya to work on his laptop while he was here, but rarely did he keep at it for the entire time without any breaks. Tamaki was stuck staring at Kyoya, contemplating going up to him, not sure what he would say if he did. He was only brought out of his looping thoughts by the sight of Haruhi out of the corner of his eye, walking up next to him. He looked down at her, trying to pretend he hadn’t just been staring at Kyoya so much.

“Is he alright?” Haruhi’s voice came quietly, she was looking over there too, concerned eyes in place. She had her arms crossed. Tamaki didn’t know what to say, so he just looked at Kyoya again, pretending that she had just now brought his odd, distracted state to his attention, like he hadn’t noticed before.

“He’s been acting different lately. He doesn’t talk to us... at all. It’s weird.” She said, her voice still lowered so that Kyoya didn’t hear them. She looked up to Tamaki, “Has he said anything to you? Is something going on?” She asked, looking genuinely worried.

Tamaki’s internal distress did a bad job at hiding itself. He desperately did not want to lie to Haruhi. He wanted to spill right now, but he couldn’t do that. That would be betraying Kyoya and in a way that was not only unforgivable, but dangerous. He couldn’t just go around telling people about this. _He_ didn’t even know what it all meant. He looked away from Haruhi slightly as he answered, hoping she hadn’t noticed the face he just made, “He hasn’t said anything to me, either.” He couldn’t look her in the eye and lie to her.

She continued to gaze up at him for a moment after he said that, and he could almost feel her eyes burning into him, like she absolutely knew he had lied. He wasn’t _that_ bad of a liar, was he? He hoped he was just imagining things.

“..I’m going to talk to him. I’m worried.” She declared, after a long pause. Tamaki blinked at her, eyes widening, surprised. He shouldn’t be, though. That was the kind of person Haruhi was. But what would she say? How did anyone deal with a Kyoya that was out of his element? That never happened. Nothing was ever wrong with Kyoya. Nothing that he let show, at least. Not to most people. He was Kyoya. He was always cool.

“Um.. alright. Be... careful, okay?” Tamaki said, looking worried. Haruhi gave him an odd look, raising an eyebrow, and he realized his mistake. That wasn’t a normal thing to say in this situation, was it? But she smiled, looking amused, and Tamaki felt immediate relief.

“Come on, it’s not like he’s a shark or something. He’s not going to bite my head off for being worried about him. He’s not _that_ scary.” She had a small laugh in her voice, and Tamaki smiled, too, with fondness for Haruhi’s manner and relief that she hadn’t suspected anything strange at his comment. She wasn’t scared of The Shadow Lord like most everyone else was. She looked past everyone’s facade and saw who they really were.

She packed the rest of her things away in her bag and carried her bag with her, walking over to Kyoya’s table as Tamaki watched. He probably shouldn’t just stand there and stare at them, but he found himself unable to leave.

Kaoru came up next to him, his hands crossed behind his head and his bag on his arm. “Something going on?” He asked, watching over there as well, looking interested.

“I don’t know. We shouldn’t eavesdrop, though.” Tamaki said, trying to take Kaoru’s attention off the situation if he could, and Kaoru looked both disappointed and weirded out at Tamaki’s sudden maturity. But he seemed to understand, and he grabbed Hikaru on his way out, both of them leering subtly at Haruhi and Kyoya as they walked by. Mori and Hani were already gone. Tamaki hesitated for a long time before he made his way out the door—he really _shouldn’t_ eavesdrop. But it took all his willpower to just walk away without being witness to whatever went down.

 

—

 

Haruhi pulled out a chair from the table Kyoya was at and sat down beside Kyoya, setting her bag down on the table, close enough to force his eyes away from his screen and pause his hands. She smiled at him.

“...Yes?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Club’s over. It’s time to go.” She said, looking around the room and prompting Kyoya to do the same. Kyoya seemed taken aback greatly by the emptiness and lighting of the room, as if it had suddenly gone from filled and bright to empty and dimming in three seconds. He blinked and looked back at her. He seemed like he was about to say something, but he didn’t.

“What’s so important that it made you tune the world out?” She asked, a small laugh in her voice. She was being very casual with him, not yet showing her concern, as not to scare him away.

“..Oh. It’s nothing, just an assignment I wanted to get done early,” He said as he closed his laptop. She couldn’t tell whether he was lying or not. He was acting normal enough. She wondered if there was any reason to lie about that. “Thank you. For… not letting me stay here into the night.” He said, giving her his own small smile, attempting to make light of it.

She wasn’t convinced yet.

“I’ve never seen you so distracted before. Must be pretty important.” She said. Kyoya was starting to give her _the look_ , telling her that he knew she was holding back. She had to get at him before he walked away, like she anticipated he probably would.

“...No, not exactly. Just.. something I needed to catch up on.” He said warily, and started to pack his laptop into his bag, standing up as he did so. Haruhi stood up along with him, and she wasn’t leaving, just standing there waiting for him to get done. He finished his packing and sighed, looking up at her. “I know you have something to say. Spit it out.” He said, putting his bag on over his shoulder.

“Are you alright, Kyoya-senpai?” She asked immediately, the concern washing over her face, deciding there was no point in holding back any further.

“Of course I am. Why?” He was shifting uncomfortably, a little too obviously, and she noticed.

“You’ve been... acting different lately. You.. well, you don’t talk to us anymore. You’ve been actively avoiding us, actually. Is something going on?” She held one of her arms to herself. She was hesitant, worried she might scare him off with all these questions. She hoped she wasn’t being intrusive, but at the same time, she really wanted to know what could make him act so off.

Kyoya suddenly paused. He went still and he stared at her without saying a word. He didn’t break eye contact, but she saw his brow twitch a bit, like he was holding back a grimace. She was waiting for him to respond, but he went too long without words, so she persisted, “Senpai…? If something's going on, you know you can tell us abou—”

“Haruhi, I appreciate your concern, but frankly, it is none of your business.” He cut her off, his words sudden, harsh and piercing. She looked like she’d just been slapped, her eyes wide and her brows raised, but only for a moment before her expression faded back into worry. He had this expression on his face, hard and defensive, something she rarely ever saw on him, especially not directed at her. It was quiet between them for a few moments, and Haruhi was opening her mouth to speak again while Kyoya’s expression was softening bit by bit. But before she could get anything out, and before his guard was let down completely, something seemed to click within him and he looked away from her.

“Please don’t.” He said, and his voice cracked. Haruhi’s mouth closed, taken off guard by the way he suddenly faltered. She knew something must be wrong, now. Something had to have happened. Why else would he act this way unless he was hiding something? Don’t? Don’t what? She reached her hand out a bit,

“Kyoya-senpai, I didn’t mean—”

“I’m going home, Haruhi. There’s nothing to worry about, so please let me be.” Abruptly he cut her off, again. He was suddenly defensive and tense, and he was making it obvious that there was something he wasn’t telling her. Did he realize how obvious he was being? Maybe he just didn’t care, maybe he only intended to be stubborn.

Haruhi wanted to protest, but the tone he was using said _back off_ . She felt almost as though she’d press the wrong buttons if she tried to say anything more, damage him somehow. She had never heard him sound this fragile before. She’d never heard him sound fragile _at all_. Despite the stiffness of his tone and his posture, she knew a facade when she saw one.

Suddenly, she was hurt. Hurt that he felt like he had to hide something from her, from all of them—whatever it was, it was bothering him greatly, because if it wasn’t, he wouldn’t be so hard pressed to keep it concealed and fail so miserably at doing so. She picked her bag up, putting it over her shoulder. Prodding him more wouldn’t get her anywhere.

“...Okay. When you feel like talking, you know we’re here. We’re on your side, Senpai. You should know that by now.” Kyoya looked up at her. She started away from the table, walking past him and not saying another word.

The door opened and shut and then the room was empty and silent again. Kyoya was left standing alone with the evening light streaming through the windows of the club room, staring forward into the empty space that Haruhi had previously filled.

He felt like he’d just been punched in the gut.

What was this feeling? He couldn’t identify it. She had noticed? More importantly, he’d been doing something noticeable? He’d been acting out of the ordinary? And he hadn’t realized it immediately?

He had... misread his own situation? That had never happened before. His perception was excellent. It had always been excellent. He thought he had been hiding his problem expertly, not letting anything slip past, not letting anyone suspect a thing. But she had just pointed out his mistake for him in the form of _worry_ , the last thing he wanted to arouse. It only now occurred to him after she’d pointed it out—in his efforts to not let any differences in his behavior or appearance show, he had begun to avoid people altogether. That was the wrong approach. He hadn’t thought about what he was doing. No one would be able to see him falter, but they would notice his blatant avoidance. That was out of the ordinary, that was wrong. People noticed.

_People noticed._

He looked down, eyes wide staring at the floor. He’d made a mistake. He’d made so many mistakes. He hadn’t done anything right. Telling… _using_ Tamaki had been a mistake. These last few months were a mistake. His confidence in his ability to hide his problem was unwarranted. Of course. Of course it was. How? How could he hide something like this? How could he hide the way it was affecting his life? His whole personality had been warped from this. There was no way to effectively conceal that when the stress and anxiety it caused made him unable to even think straight or focus on a day to day basis. The way he tried not to let his eyes wander and his mind go blank when he looked at people for more than a few seconds. The effort it had just taken not to stare anywhere other than Haruhi’s face when she spoke. The awful feeling he had to swallow down before it showed in him physically, repulsed by this sick desire that he had no control over anymore.

A sense of dread like never before washed over him, and he had to get out of here. He had to go home. He had to... something.  He just couldn’t be here right now. It was time to go, anyway. He was lingering too long. Another mistake. So many mistakes.

He staggered a bit and then ventured out of the music room, down the hall, towards the stairs. When he got to the top, he gripped the top of the railing and stopped himself from going any further. Down at the bottom was Tamaki, sitting on the steps, just.. waiting. Waiting there. For him. He had to be. Kyoya almost choked. He looked left and right, for a different way to get downstairs, and was about to wander in the other direction when Tamaki looked up and Kyoya froze.

He was standing up, turning around and looking at Kyoya expectantly. Kyoya was sure he looked a mess—his heart was racing, his throat felt dry, he was gripping the railing so tight his knuckles were turning white.

He hadn’t been himself in months. A familiar other feeling was rising in him and it made his stomach turn. _Don’t come any closer._

“Kyoya?” Tamaki’s voice called, and he walked up a few steps. “We need to talk,” Tamaki said, but at the same time, he looked very worried. Kyoya looked away, lifting his free hand, gripping his forehead, trying to control his breathing. “..Kyoya? I-It’s okay, I’m not—”

“No,” He choked out, shaking his head, “Not now—” Kyoya took deep breaths in and out, blinking fast, his eyes actually watering. Oh, no. He could feel it, rising in his throat and attempting to choke him out, making him unable to form proper sentences. Tamaki kept coming up, he wasn’t stopping. The world wasn’t slowing down, not giving him a chance to breathe.

He jolted when he felt a hand on his shoulder, his head snapping in Tamaki’s direction as he was suddenly in front of him. _No_.

“Kyoya.” Tamaki’s voice was soft, grounding, clear. Kyoya blinked, his eyes still damp and wide. Kyoya’s mouth opened, but before anything could come out, as quick as he could, he brought his arms up and forcefully pushed Tamaki away from him, taking steps backwards himself as Tamaki stumbled. Kyoya backed up until he hit the wall. He felt dizzy with restraint, he felt nauseous with anxiety and disgust at himself, at this feeling that made him want to lurch forward when he looked at Tamaki. He could swear he was sweating, getting a headache. His ears were starting to ring, and his vision was darkening at the edges. Not here. Not here. Not here.

It had been ten days. Ten days since he last…

“Kyoya—”

  
He blacked out.


	4. Chapter 4

“Oh, Tamaki-senpai,” Haruhi stopped midway down the stairs on her way out of the music room, seeing Tamaki sitting there at the bottom. He looked up at her. “What are you doing?”

He stood up, turning around to face her, “I’m going to try to talk to him, too.” He said, looking determined. She waited for him to continue on and ask her what had happened in there with the two of them, but… he didn’t. She was caught off guard by his lack of extremely-obvious interest, as was his usual nature to show, she’d been prepared to tell him everything when he asked. She’d accidentally caused a weird pause in their exchange. But he didn’t seem to notice when she continued,

“I know what I said before, but… you be careful, too. He’s _really_ not himself right now, he actually snapped at me when I asked if something was wrong. I’m really worried, Tamaki. What if something bad happened?” She gripped her bag strap. At the same time she spoke, there was a quiet nagging in the back of her head, something felt wrong. She couldn’t really put her finger on what it was.

But then Tamaki looked away, the same way he’d done earlier, and spoke in that same hesitant voice, “I don’t know. I hope not.”

Haruhi blinked. There it was again. It made her hesitate, too. She was starting to notice it, the change in Tamaki’s behavior. It wasn’t just Kyoya who was acting odd.

There was a longer than usual pause and Tamaki looked at her again questioningly, his face telling her he hadn’t caught on to her confusion, or to the fact that he was even doing anything out of the ordinary. She forced herself out of her thoughtful daze and tried to stop thinking about it—it was probably nothing, really. Tamaki was probably just as, if not more, worried as her and everyone else. So she didn’t say anything about it.

She took a few steps to join Tamaki at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at him when she got to the bottom, “He’s still in there… make sure he’s alright, okay?”

“I will,” Tamaki said immediately. She gave him a soft smile, confident in his ability to get through to their friend. If anyone could do it, it was Tamaki. He smiled back reassuringly.

“See you tomorrow, Senpai.” She said, giving him a small wave and turning away, disappearing down the hall and around the corner.

Tamaki was hit by guilt times ten million. He physically slouched as soon as he was sure she was gone, grabbing the railing as he sat back down on the steps, sighing. It took so much energy not to start blabbing to Haruhi about everything that he knew. It filled him with dread to lie to her, to hide anything from her. He wasn’t the brightest or the most perceptive on his best days, but he was pretty sure she had, at least a little bit, caught on that he wasn’t telling her something. What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t tell her. He couldn’t tell anyone. It was grating on his nerves, to just sit here day in and day out and not acknowledge the giant pink elephant in the room standing between himself and Kyoya. Which is why he decided today would be the day he finally did something about it.

It had been over a week, now. About.. ten days? Kyoya had told him about this. About how long it took before he had to do it again. Tamaki’s stomach dropped a bit at the realization that Kyoya may or may not have done that to someone else between now and then. God, he hoped not. He prayed for that not to be the case. Despite how scary this all was, despite the way he remembered how much it had _hurt—_ he would subject himself to that as many times as he needed to if it meant that no one else had to. He had to keep reminding himself that this wasn’t Kyoya’s fault. Kyoya had no explanation. If he could stop, he would. But he had hurt people. He had even…

Tamaki didn’t want to think about _that,_ in particular. If he let himself think about it, he would probably just run away again. He needed to do this. For Kyoya’s sake, and for the sake of everyone else’s safety. He couldn’t back out now.

It was then that he heard footsteps and looked up, seeing Kyoya frozen at the top of the steps, looking distressed. He stood up immediately, taking steps upward. “Kyoya?” He kept going up, slowly, because Kyoya actually looked like he was going to bolt. He couldn’t let him keep running from this, too. “We need to talk,” He said, trying to be firm to catch his attention. He paused in his steps as he got closer because from this distance, now he could actually see.. tears welling up in his friend’s eyes. He was shaking? Tamaki’s expression softened immediately, and he reached his hand out, continuing upwards. “Kyoya? I-It’s okay, I’m not—”

“No,” He heard Kyoya’s voice quiver severely, “Not now—”

At this point Tamaki was starting to panic, as well. What was going on? He had never seen Kyoya in such a state before. He rushed the rest of the way up the stairs to stand in front of him, putting his hand on his shoulder, trying to get him to make eye contact, to calm him down. “Kyoya,” He said, and Kyoya finally looked at him.

But it didn’t last long. In the next instant Tamaki was almost knocked over by the force of Kyoya’s hands pushing him away, like he was scared, a defensive action, like someone who felt they were being attacked. Tamaki caught himself on the railing, looking up to see Kyoya backing up against a wall.

“Kyoya, what’s wro…” His eyes went wide when suddenly, Kyoya lost his balance and started to fall. He gasped and ran towards him, catching him before his head hit the floor. “Oh my god,” He said out loud, he hadn’t expected this. Kyoya had actually passed out, but why? Was he _that_ stressed? Had something else caused this…? Was this about…

He couldn’t waste time pondering these things right now. He had to help. He shook Kyoya a little, calling out to him, seeing if he could get him to wake up, but all he got was silence, which was even more worrying.

So instead, as carefully as he could, he picked Kyoya up, pulling his arm over his shoulder and wrapping his free arm around Kyoya’s waist to keep him upright. Kyoya was deadweight, but Tamaki needed to stay calm—he had to get to the nurse’s office. They were still here this late.

—

The evening light was getting dimmer by the time they pulled up in front of Tamaki’s home.

The nurse had given Kyoya water and a protein bar, giving him a cold cloth while he regained his strength slowly. The nurse informed Tamaki that Kyoya had what seemed to be an anxiety attack of the more extreme variety, but that with rest and a calm environment he should be okay. Kyoya looked grim the entire time, almost pissed off. He knew that this would get back to his father somehow, and that knowledge wasn’t helping to ease him at all. He didn’t want to have to explain this to him. He avoided eye contact with anyone in the room the entire time, and when he felt well enough to stand, she let them go home.

Kyoya went home with Tamaki, which in itself was not out of the ordinary—they spent time at each other’s places quite often, no one would ask any questions, and that was one of the more convenient aspects of this arrangement.

 _Arrangement?_ Kyoya scoffed, and opened his door to get out right as they stopped, Tamaki doing the same. Right now, he at least felt better than he had an hour ago. He didn’t feel like he couldn’t control himself anymore, but the nagging feeling deep in his core was a dull ache that never seemed to go away until he gave in.

They were inside and headed towards Tamaki’s room, Kyoya walking behind him with his hands in his pockets. They were still in their uniforms. They hadn’t said anything to each other about the obvious topic, or anything at all. But as soon as they got inside, Kyoya was taking his jacket off and flinging it over onto a couch. Tamaki was doing the same, but he picked both of them up and hung them. Kyoya could tell, he was just looking for reasons to procrastinate.

He couldn’t take this anymore. His outward calm was starting to crack the more he realized how close he was to getting what he needed, his heart sped up just at the thought, and suddenly, his control wasn’t as stable as he thought it was.

“Please,” He said, looking towards Tamaki, swallowing. Tamaki looked up, blinking as though he were confused, but it was an obvious facade. He was just uncomfortable. Usually, Kyoya wouldn’t care about other people’s comfort if it meant his own benefit. But this wasn’t ‘usually.’

Tamaki looked away, biting the inside of his cheek before he said, “In the bathroom… I don’t want to make a mess or have anyone walk in.” He said it all so clinically, despite the nervous air suddenly befalling him. Kyoya started in the direction of Tamaki’s personal wash room without waiting for him, walking a little too fast. He went inside, and Tamaki followed him, closing and locking the door behind them.

Suddenly Kyoya’s throat felt dry.

—

Tamaki was turning around to face Kyoya, but before he could even get anything out, he gasped when he felt himself being knocked back against the bathroom door, held there.

“Ky—” He started, but then there was a hand around his throat, suddenly. Not tight, not enough to choke him, but the shock of such an threatening action alone was enough to stop him dead in his tracks, unable to speak anymore. The panic was coming on, he wanted to run away. Kyoya didn’t look like Kyoya anymore, the way his eyes stared at him looked vacant, clouded, like he was sleepwalking.

He was tense, leaning back on the door as a last attempt to distance himself, but Kyoya only got closer. He wasn’t sure what to do in this situation—Kyoya, he found, could be truly terrifying. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t not be afraid of him. His heart beat out of his chest.

He was looking up, trying to slow his breathing, trying to take himself out of this situation, calm down. It wasn’t like last time. Kyoya’s hand started moving down from his throat, and he felt his tie being clumsily undone, pulled off and discarded. He swallowed, closing his eyes, brow furrowing. _Breathe._

Kyoya moved forward at last, and Tamaki was almost relieved, unable to take any more of this tense anticipation of the pain he knew was coming. But instead of feeling teeth, he felt tongue and mouth and his hands clenched into fists. The immediate impulse was to push him away and slap him across the face, but he didn’t. His brow twitched a bit, keeping his eyes shut. _Get on with it._

Arms wrapped around his waist, slowly. Before Tamaki had the chance to mentally slap Kyoya for that, too, there was a sharp, sudden pain starting from his throat and spreading outwards, and he gasped. Finally, it was happening. An audible choked exclamation came out of Tamaki’s mouth, his eyes opened wide. Unconsciously he was holding his breath, but eventually let it out in another quick gasp.

Subconsciously his hands raised up to grip tight at the sides of Kyoya’s arms, hands starting to shake.

It was hard to have a sense of time when it felt like this. He couldn’t tell if it was lasting minutes or seconds, but the way it hurt made it feel like an eternity. His strength faltered, becoming weak in the legs, gripping tighter to Kyoya to stay upright. Kyoya’s arms tightened around him, keeping him in place.

Tamaki breathed quick pants, shallow, through his mouth. His eyes glazed over, unfocusing. He felt his heart doing slow, hard beats that ached and made him feel lightheaded. Finally he let his eyes close. His breathing started to slow to deep pants, his mind went blank. Behind his eyelids, even, his vision was becoming blotchy, purple and black. He lost the strength to keep holding onto Kyoya’s arms and his hands dropped. His mouth open, he breathed deep, he was losing it. Either the pain had suddenly become much less, or something was very wrong here. He was losing too much blood.

But before he went completely limp, it stopped. Kyoya’s mouth left his skin.

— 

"...aki. Tamaki, can you hear me?" At first it came muffled to his ears, and then louder, and he opened his eyes to see Kyoya’s face up close, eyes wide, panicked. It took a moment to process, but slowly he took in the things around him, Kyoya’s hands on his face, the position he was in, sitting on the bathroom floor. It was too bright in here, suddenly. He squinted immediately.

“Tamaki,” Kyoya said, quieter this time, moving one hand to set on his shoulder, the other still on his face, as if keeping his head from lolling.

Tamaki blinked hard, about three times, glancing around with just his eyes, his vision coming in and out of focus. His voice came out weak and broken, "Y-Yeah, I can hear."

Kyoya looked both relieved and horribly guilty. Tamaki almost thought he saw his eyes start to dampen, but his vision was still blurry. Before he had the chance to examine closer, Kyoya’s hand moved away from his face and to his own, covering his mouth and looking down. There was a quiet but muffled, short, choked sound that escaped him. Tamaki knew what this was, he’d seen people cry plenty of times in his life.

But never Kyoya.

Tamaki wanted to say something, tried, even, but he suddenly found his voice useless. He thought he was waking up, but his eyelids started to feel heavy again, and soon he couldn’t keep them open anymore. After that there was nothing, his thoughts disappeared and unwillingly, he lost his grip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didn't mean for two chapters in a row to end with someone passing the fuck out, oops


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been almost a year now since i updated this, sorry. i doubt anyone is still here to read this but i suddenly felt like writing it again so here you go. sorry that i dropped this without a word. hope you enjoy even though it took so long

The first thing Tamaki was aware of was the feeling of his own bed beneath him, and an uncomfortable ache like he’d fallen asleep involuntarily while trying to get work done. But then he realized he was just lying on his back, and the cramp in his neck was just from his head leaning to the side of the pillow under it. He didn’t usually sleep on his back like this, because it felt like being laid out in a casket or something. The way he felt would certainly match that notion: cold, uncomfortable and sick. He breathed deep and sat up, bringing a hand up to rub his neck as he tilted his head left and right, rolling his shoulders, the headache suddenly becoming prominent.

The next thing he was aware of was that his bed was still completely made up, no evidence that anyone had slept in it had it not been for the fact that he was lying out right on top of it all. God, he felt nauseous.

Oh.

Impulsively his hand came up to feel about the base of his neck, and the moment his fingers brushed the raised marks he pulled his hand away. Immediately, he scanned the room for Kyoya, but all he saw was the bathroom door wide open, the lights on. He leaned a bit to try to peer inside, but he felt stiff and moving made the headache worse and also brought on disorienting lightheadedness. He groaned and fought the impulse to lie back down, not wanting to fall asleep again at a time like this. His eyes caught on a glass filled with milk on his bedside.

Before he could think to maybe reach for it, the sound and sight of movement caught his attention and he saw Kyoya coming from the bathroom. It was a moment, however, before Kyoya saw him. He emerged with his head bowed as he wiped his face with a hand towel, finally bringing it away and looking up.

Tamaki tried not to lose his breath.

Kyoya was _pale_ , not in the way he normally was, but—sickly. It was a shocking contrast, had he looked like that all day? Tamaki was sure he would have noticed. He must have been staring, because Kyoya looked away. Tamaki blinked and looked down.

“You’re awake,” Kyoya said, the awkward silence filled with even more unspoken concerns hanging between them even as it passed. “How do you feel?”

Kyoya was closer now, standing a few feet away from Tamaki’s large bed. He glanced to the glass he’d set on his bedside. “You should drink something.”

“I feel…” Tamaki started, having a difficult time looking Kyoya in the eye, or even in his direction at all, “...Um, not great. Tired.” He said, resigning himself to just tell the truth, because at this point lying would just cause more problems, and god knows they didn’t need more of those.

“Predictably.” Kyoya responded shortly, and Tamaki felt a little wounded, for some reason. He wasn’t the one who should be feeling guilty here, so what was this feeling? Finally, he chanced a glance up at Kyoya, who wasn’t looking at him anymore.

On closer inspection, it wasn’t just his friend’s complexion that was off. His eyes were slightly reddened and he looked raw, like… like someone who had been crying, and scrubbing their face. A different kind of sick feeling washed over him. The worst thing was to see his friends in pain, and his immediate instinct was to try to comfort him. Then he remembered the situation they were in.

For lack of anything else to do with his hands, Tamaki reached over and picked up the milk on his bedside. And for lack of anything else to say, “Why milk?”

“You could become anemic. Drink it. All of it.” Kyoya replied immediately, a little too quickly, and turned to walk away, presumably back to the bathroom.

“T-This’ll help?” Tamaki didn’t mean to stutter, but Kyoya’s sudden attitude was making him nervous. Why did he seem so irritated?

"Dairy products will help boost your immune system, and you need protein. It's the fastest thing I could think to get to you without getting the attention of your staff by wandering around in the kitchen. Drink it.” Kyoya didn’t stop, disappearing into the bathroom.

“..What are you doing?” Tamaki called, and he heard a quiet sigh.

Kyoya stood in the doorway of the bathroom, “Since you woke up, the majority of what has come out of you has been questions. Drink your milk. I’ll be out in a second.” And he was gone again.

Tamaki was ready to feel like he’d been slapped, but actually, Kyoya’s tone had softened quite a bit in the end there. So instead of protesting or feeling defensive, he did as he was told and drank his milk. He shifted backwards to lean against his headboard, a better alternative for rest than actually falling back to sleep.

Within a few minutes or so, Kyoya came from the bathroom once more, looking far less disheveled than he had the first time. In fact, he even looked healthier in terms of how bright his skin was. How did he do that? His uniform was neat and perfect again, his tie straight, his glasses in place, his hair looking as well as it did before this whole ordeal.

Tamaki was having quite an issue with staring lately. All he did was stare at his friend as he walked toward him, and didn’t say anything still when Kyoya walked right up to him. It was an odd position to be in, because Tamaki only now realized that he was still in a very messy version of his uniform as he lie in bed, buttons undone up top, collar upturned, wrinkled—while Kyoya stood over him, looking neat as a pin. At least he was beginning to feel a bit better, physically.

“I disinfected your wound while you were out, but please clean it regularly until it heals. It should go away within a day or two, like last time, and it’s low enough that your collar will cover it, so you don’t need to worry about hiding it.” Kyoya spoke so clinically, like this was just routine. None of this had happened last time. It was awkwardly and briefly exchanged words, Kyoya hadn’t done any such thing to make sure Tamaki was alright afterwards. Now that he was, everything just felt even weirder.

“Uh, yeah. Thanks, Kyoya.” Tamaki said, unsure of whether or not ‘thank you’ was the proper response, after what had just happened. How long had he been out? He was curious but felt too stifled by the odd atmosphere between them to ask.

“Right, then. I’ll head home. Take care of yourself, Tamaki.” Kyoya straightened his uniform jacket, and turned to get his bag. He was leaving? Just like that? That was it? Tamaki felt a sudden frantic need to speak, unlike before.

“Ky—Kyoya, wait,” He called out, stopping Kyoya in his tracks. He didn’t turn around.

Weighted silence, a physical thing, hung between them and Tamaki nearly choked on it, almost unable to get his words out.

“Are—Are you okay?” Tamaki asked dumbly. He cursed silently, that was stupid, that wasn’t the right thing to say here. But actually, he didn’t know what was the right thing to say. He hadn’t exactly gone into this with a plan.

Kyoya turned around, and the look on his face was listless. Like someone who had given up. His body looked tense, and then his whole aura seemed to harden. He scowled, and Tamaki tensed like an echo.

“What?” Kyoya spat, and Tamaki had to keep himself from physically jolting. “Am I okay? What kind of question is that?” He took a few steps back towards the bed. “You’re the one who almost _died_ because of me!”

Tamaki’s heart sunk into the pit of his stomach.

Kyoya gasped as though he didn’t mean to say that, immediately took a step back, looking away and bringing a hand near his mouth. Too loud. Someone may have heard. _Another mistake._

“Kyoya, that’s not—” Tamaki’s voice was too soft, like someone scared that their words could wound. He set his glass down on the table and the sound it made seemed so, so loud.

“Worry about yourself for once, you idiot.” Kyoya cut him of before he could continue, his voice quivering. He picked up his bag and quickly made his way out of Tamaki’s bedroom before he could stop him.

“Kyoya!” Tamaki called weakly, but Kyoya didn’t stop.

He felt the weakness in his legs for the first time because when he tried to get up he had to catch himself on his end table to keep himself from falling over. Dizziness washed over him. Guess it didn’t wear off that easily, after all. He felt useless, wanting to run after Kyoya and so unable to do so. But even if he did, what was he supposed to do when he caught him?

He fell back into his bed, sitting down on the edge heavily. What was he supposed to do? Even if he managed to stop Kyoya, there was nothing he could say or do to make this better. Reality was setting in. His relationship with Kyoya was permanently altered, no matter what happened from here on out. They could fake and pretend, they could avoid each other until there was a literal wall built between them, but Tamaki could never unlearn Kyoya’s situation and Kyoya could never take back what he’d done.

Tamaki held his hand over his abdomen, gripping his shirt. God, it hurt. What was this? The nausea from before? No, it was different. It was that feeling of loss, the weight of the knowledge that something so dear was gone, probably forever. He denied it tenfold in his mind but his heart knew what his head couldn’t accept. His friendship with Kyoya could never go back to normal after this. He’d probably never get to see Kyoya smile so openly at him again. It had taken years to get Kyoya to be so openly himself, and all of that seemed to disappear, within days. Was Kyoya even the same person anymore?

Was Tamaki?


End file.
